


Every cloud has an inky lining

by Kytanna



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, And Bilbo is dramatic like no other, Consort Bilbo Baggins, Dwalin tries his best at being a good friend, Dwarf Courting, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Endearments, Established Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hobbit Courting, Khuzdul, M/M, Male Friendship, POV Bilbo Baggins, Romantic Fluff, Tattoos, Thorin has the patience of a saint, Thorin is a Softie, Thorin is a sap, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, not a soulmate au though, only endearments tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28197744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kytanna/pseuds/Kytanna
Summary: "I don't know why I let you convince me to do this!" Bilbo wailed at Dwalin as the dwarrowdam above him stabbed his skin over and over again, carefully dripping the needle on the ink in between a few stabbings.“Cause ye love Thorin, maybe? Also, I’ll have ye know my ideas are the best. Wasn’t it for it you would be still freeting about gifts and whatnots. Yer just a little wimpy...” Dwalin mumbled the last part as he grimaced, trying to counteract Bilbo’s accusations but he wasn’t fooled, as from where he was lying, the fool of a dwarf was more than a little sweaty trying to pry his white hand from Bilbo’s bruising grip.Or, Bilbo gets a tattoo for Thorin on the advice of Dwalin, despite his better judgment and extreme dislike of tattoos.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Dwalin, Bilbo Baggins & Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins & Thorin's Company, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 14
Kudos: 240





	1. Fall seven times. Stand up eight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [birdkeeperklink (speculating)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/speculating/gifts).



> Merry Xmas my beloved Birdy!!! 🥳🎉❤️ I hope you have a blast today and that this little gift makes your day even greater, cause you deserve that, and much more! 🤗
> 
> I did my best to include all sorts of feels in the story, but with the prompt at hand, the prominent one is humor for sure. Not that we could expect anything else when Dwalin is involved.🤣😂
> 
> The story is split in three parts that I'll be posting throughout the day so that when you wake up it'll be all ready to read. 😘

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul translations are at the end of every chapter!

Bilbo let out a pleased hum. He had finally managed to snag a good deal out of Bard, one that would surely bring benefits to both of their respective kingdoms. 

It was a pity so very few dwarves knew their way around the earth and the wonders of gardening, and while Bilbo was no slouch on the matter, he was far from being knowledgeable as, let’s say, Hamfast. That’s where the importance of the deal with Bard laid. 

Until the rest of the dwarves arrived from Ered Luin next spring they had nothing to eat, and even then it would take a while to see the fruits of their labour. That’s why Bilbo had no option to make a pact with Bard, in theory, he was doing an indirect one as well with Thranduil but the least the dwarves knew about it the best. At least Dwalin had been smart enough to not say anything when he had found out, choosing to merely glower at Bilbo, and send him a look that promised a long talk after they left towards their home again.

The deal, in the end, had been a simple one. In exchange for money and coal — that dwarves had in abundance — the Men would give them a part of the food they acquired from the elves. The money they would get from dwarves would allow them to get more food and help restore the economy of their slowly recovering city. 

Bilbo thought himself rather clever. They didn’t have to deal directly with Thranduil and they still got enough benefits to not be considered a loss. Besides, in the short time they have known each other, Bard had become some sort of friend and Bilbo didn’t mind lending the man a hand. He was certainly smarter and kinder than the Master of Lake-Town had been. 

Being a hobbit meant that Bilbo was well aware of how relations and unions could benefit you and so it was up to him, as one of Thorin’s advisors and future consort, that Erebor had enough allies to avoid any future fatality that may occur. 

It might not be the way of dwarves, who preferred to keep to their kin, but Bilbo was no dwarf and he had no qualms about reminding everyone about it. The company and Thorin had relented — it would be foolish not to — and so Bilbo, with the company of Dwalin, had gone to talk with Bard. 

Now, as they went back to the mountain on their ponies, Bilbo couldn’t help but whistle merrily and mentally pat himself on the back at his success. Not even the scowl Dwalin was currently sending his way could ruin Bilbo’s peppy mood.

“Yes?” Bilbo asked innocently, after a few minutes of glares and sharp side glances from Dwalin, who was clearly refusing to be the first one to say anything.

“Ye made a deal with the tree shagger,” Dwalin spat in distaste.

“Thranduil wasn’t even mentioned once, let alone present in the meeting,” Bilbo counteracted lightly, with a wave of his hand.

“Bard clearly said that it’s the  _ elves _ ,” Dwalin spat the word with almost the same disgust Thorin did, quite a feat in Bilbo's opinion, “the ones giving them the majority of their food. The only pointy-eared twigs I see around here are Thranduil and his scum.” 

“And yet we didn’t do any dealing with him or his people. Our deal was made with Bard and Bard alone,” Bilbo explained with a sigh, his cheer starting to fade as a tickle of annoyance coiled around him. It was always like that. Bilbo understood, he truly did. No one deserved to be treated the way the dwarves had been treated by Thranduil and his people, or elves in general really. 

And hadn’t that been an eye-opening discovery? 

Bilbo had spent all his life admiring elves and their regal looks and interesting lifestyle, but after spending so much time on the road with the dwarves and having seen all that he had seen, all the cards laid on the table, he had been faced with the ugly truth that elves weren’t as great as Bilbo had always thought.

But it wasn’t only the elves, was it?

In reality, Bilbo had been forced to see the ways dwarves were treated by the rest of the races - watching as only disdain and contempt was shown to them. It was rather shocking, to watch a race so strong and mighty being looked down at for things not even Bilbo could understand. 

He was familiar with being looked down upon, though, all hobbits were. And while they weren’t outright hated by the rest of Arda they were underestimated by elves and treated like nothing more than children by Men. 

So yes, Bilbo could understand where their hate for elves - and Thranduil in particular - came from. He didn’t share it but he understood it and that’s why Bilbo had decided to make the decisions he made concerning the deal. It might be a bitter thing to swallow but the truth was that if they didn’t get some food they would most likely starve and die even before winter finally set. So while it wasn’t fun to have to ask Thranduil for help - as indirectly as it had been - it was better than watching his family die.

“He’s still involved,” complained Dwalin.

“Would you rather starve?” Bilbo asked quietly, before adding, “I know you don’t like this, and believe me when I say I don’t either, but where - do tell - are we going to get food, because I don’t see anything but barren land from here to the Grey Mountains.”

Bilbo watched as Dwalin clenched his jaw and his hand tightened in a fist around the pony reins.

Dwalin finally huffed, relenting. “Fine, but you’re telling Thorin. We might be as good as family, but I refuse to get my head chewed for this.”

“You know I will. I don’t hide anything from Thorin, besides, this is important. I just needed to strike the deal before telling him so there’s no way to backtrack,” Bilbo explained, nodding his head in thanks towards Dwalin.

After that they remained in silence for a while, Bilbo for his part enjoying the cold breeze and the bright sun that only autumn could bring. Dwalin on the other hand slowly relaxed, his scowl and fury leaving for the steady and composed demeanour, that usually accompanied the balding dwarf, to take place.*

Just a quarter of an hour before arriving at the mountain, Dwalin spoke again.

“How’s the last gift going? Ye already decided what you’re giving Thorin?”

Bilbo didn’t respond and instead groaned, all merriment leaving his body, at the reminder that no, he still had no idea what to get his betrothed, despite having desperately wracked his brain for ideas for almost a month already.

At his silence Dwalin guffawed, throwing a smirk at Bilbo, “I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.”

“It’s been a month already, Dwalin, and I still have no idea what to do!” lamented Bilbo, pulling miserably at his curls in frustration.

“You could make him a cake and he would find it a fine gift, lad. There’s no need to stress so much over it. Thorin just wants to marry ye as soon as possible,” Dwalin said, his features softening at Bilbo’s clear unhappiness.

“I know! But Thorin deserves better, I don’t want my last gift to be something so simple and thoughtless. I know Thorin doesn’t need anything fancy but I’m also very aware that he’s a king and that comes with its own responsibility. What would the people say if they found the consort gave their King a blackberry cake as the last gift before the royal wedding?” Bilbo shook his head morosely, biting his lip. “Besides, despite not being a dwarf, I know how important tradition is to you lot. Thorin went through all the steps of hobbit courting and even made me my father’s pumpkin bread recipe. How can I not give him the perfect gift when he deserves nothing else?!” 

Dwalin blinked at him, seemingly surprised at Bilbo's sudden outburst, then he suddenly chuckled. 

He patted Bilbo on the back, mindful of his own strength for which Bilbo was very thankful, after having been toppled over his pony once too many times. “I’m glad it’s you. You’ll make a fine consort Bilbo, and a finer husband for Thorin. I’ll be happy to officially call you part of my family,” Dwalin declared with a subtle, but fond, smile on his lips.

Bilbo felt slightly misty-eyed and quickly blinked to make the stray tears go away. He was still getting used to receiving so much affection from people he loved, after having spent more than a half of his life in almost solitude with the odd visit here and there. 

The past few months have been full of change and new but wonderful things and now that they weren’t wary of the travel, and the quest was no longer weighing on their shoulders, the dwarves were happier than they had ever been. 

This, of course, translated to the way they treated each other and lately, they had made their mission to make Bilbo know how much they appreciated him. And that despite being from entirely different races and cultures, they all thought of Bilbo as part of their families in everything but blood. 

Bilbo, despite having one of the biggest families of The Shire, being related to more than half of it in one way or another, had never felt more at home, with what he now knew was his family.

It was taking time getting used to it, yes, but Bilbo was enjoying every step of the way.

So that’s why Bilbo smiled brightly at Dwalin and after a second of doubt, he took the dwarf’s hand and gave it a brief squeeze before letting go. His own way of showing affection. “Thank you, Dwalin,” he said, “I’m happy to call you my family too.”

Dwalin's smile grew, his eyes glinting in that odd way they did when the dwarf was particularly pleased. 

After a moment he suggested, “what about a tattoo?” 

“What?” Bilbo stared at him blankly, not sure if Dwalin had really uttered those words, after all, there was no way he had suggested Bilbo  _ tattooed _ his body. There was no way.

“I  _ said _ ,” Dwalin emphasized with a pointed and exasperated look, “ye should get a tattoo.”

Apparently, there was.

“Are you out of your mind?” Bilbo asked, more than a little horrified. He was aware it had sounded slightly harsh but he could hardly be blamed. It was a deranged idea, after all.

“Why not?” Dwalin inquired with a huff. “It’s part of our culture and it means a great lot to us. It would get rid of yer worry about needing a ‘proper’ gift, besides, what dwarf wouldn't be thrilled to have a tattoo in their honour as the Last Gift? It’ll make a fine gift!”

“I-” Bilbo found himself at a loss of words and for a wild and fickle moment, he even pondered about the suggestion before quickly squishing it out of his head. No, no. What was he even thinking? There was no way in Yavanna he was getting his own body marred in such a way. He might enjoy how Thorin looked with them but Bilbo's own body was an entirely different matter. “No, no. Don’t try to get inside my head and make me make rash and horrible decisions. I haven’t forgiven you about the mushroom incident with Thranduil.” Bilbo grumbled.

Dwalin rolled his eyes. “My idea was a fine one, both of them, in fact. It’s not my fault you get swayed so easily at the mention of mushrooms. Besides, it was all worth it to see that blond twig getting high,” Dwalin chuckled after that, most likely remembering how Thranduil, in his sorry state, had swept Kíli from his seat and attempted to tame his hair, only to almost have a breakdown when he had been unable. 

They had all been lucky the incident hadn’t escalated. The last thing they needed was another war against the elves.

“My point stands. I can respect and even feel impressed by the intricate designs and meanings of the tattoos you dwarves have but I refuse to take part in that. My body is not made to be drawn on,” Bilbo replied, testily.

Dwalin made a dismissive sound, and shrugged, “Suit yerself, laddie. The offer still stands, if you change yer mind, though.”

Bilbo blinked at him in surprise at how quickly Dwalin had relented, immediately smiling obligingly at his friend and family, “thank you, Dwalin. I doubt I’ll take you to the offer but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

“We’ll see about that,” Dwalin replied, smirking cheekily, making Bilbo laugh.

They spent the rest of the trip in friendly banter and Dwalin offering some actually good suggestions to Bilbo about what to get for Thorin. Most were ridiculous and even silly - not as much as the tattoo but silly nonetheless - but two or three of those held potential so Bilbo took note of them on his head and promptly forgot everything about Dwalin even thinking of suggesting a tattoo.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Bilbo fretted as he looked at the pitiful list of ideas he had in hand. It was so short it almost made him want to cry.

A few days had passed since the day Dwalin and he had gone to Dale and Bilbo still had no idea what to get Thorin. 

It was more than a little troubling and Bilbo was starting to get desperate. It wasn’t fair. Thorin had gotten him a marvellous gift as his last courting gift, a beautiful set of cutlery made all by the dwarf, his initials and a quite charming little floral design at the handle of each silverware. 

Bilbo had loved the gift to pieces and had laughed when Thorin had made a joke about no one stealing his spoons ever again. 

How was he going to get Thorin a gift as good as that one?

Hence his desperation. It had already been a month since Thorin had given him his final gift and two more since their courting had begun. His beloved had assured Bilbo he could take as much time as he needed but Bilbo knew that Thorin didn’t really wish to wait. 

He had gone far and beyond to go with the hobbit courting, from learning to weave flower crowns, planting Bilbo’s favourite fruit or vegetable — tomatoes, thank you — and Thorin still made sure to check on the little sapling every single day. He had even learnt how to cook hobbitish dishes filled with vegetables to the brim.

All, he had done it without a single complaint, even when Bilbo had seen him crying while peeling onions and gagging when steaming the greens. All, he had done it for Bilbo. 

How could he not do the same and pour his heart when the dwarven courting began? 

Thorin had given Bilbo much happiness and brought with him much more than Bilbo had hoped for. He had a family, a home, friends, and even adventures. 

There wasn’t a way Bilbo wouldn’t do his very best to give Thorin what he very well deserved. 

Still, as adamant as Bilbo was, it was proving to be a particularly difficult thing to do. He, unlike dwarves, was not versed in a craft. He hadn’t spent a lifetime learning one, he wasn’t even that skilled with weapons, barely able to defend himself.

No. As much as Bilbo was part of their families, he was no dwarf, and so the dwarven courting was proving to be particularly tricky to him. 

Shaking his head, Bilbo made those thoughts disappear. He couldn’t afford to be negative now, no. That wouldn’t serve for anything. Bilbo had to focus on what to do now. 

After caving and asking his friends, he had ended with a sorry list of three possible things he could get Thorin, and Bilbo still had half of mind to erase two of those. His friends had meant well, Bilbo knew, but some of their ideas had been… Well, it was better left unsaid what they had been.

And so his list solely consisted of four, and four things alone. The last one of them repeatedly crossed, but Bilbo refused to even think about that one, so in truth he had just three. 

  * _Learn some sort of craft in less than a month and make something for Thorin._



  * _Manage to find an invaluable item worthy of a king._



  * _Challenge Thorin in battle._



  * ̷G̷e̷t̷ ̷a̷ ̷t̷a̷t̷t̷o̷o̷



Right.

Bilbo felt pressed to simply go and burn the piece of paper. Looking at the last idea -  _ the crossed and cursed one _ \- made his lip curl enough as it was. He wasn’t even sure why he had added it as he had no intention of actually going and doing such a thing. Perhaps it was his desperation, but Dwalin’s words had stuck on his head and whenever he was free they would hunt him like a cursed evil spirit.

Blasted Dwalin!

Bilbo closed his eyes and took a couple of calming breaths, feeling too close to tearing the list to shreds and eat the tiny pieces until all traces of its existence all but faded.

Once calm enough again he considered the list again and pondered his options. He had to decide what to do now. 

Either learn a craft or go on another quest on his own to find a rare item for his beloved…

Bilbo pressed his lips together as he made a shrill sound at the back of his throat, the only sound akin to screaming he would allow himself.

What to do… what to do…

He didn’t even know what craft he could learn in less than a month, cooking really didn’t count here as it was more of a basic life skill for Bilbo. And during the quest, he had proven to himself and everyone who had heard his scream that while he was adept with knives in the kitchen that didn’t apply to wood. 

Who would even teach him a craft in such a short amount of-

Fíli!

Oh, bless the all mighty and gentle Yavanna.

Bilbo allowed himself a small smile full of hope as he remembered the words the caring lad had said to him when Bilbo had gone to ask for his opinion. 

_ “You could get uncle a rock and he would be happy enough with it. He just wants to marry you, doesn’t really care about the gifts or even the courting. I’m sure if he wasn’t the king and had to do things the proper way he might have asked you on the journey itself, but if you’re still adamant of making something for him, I could help you make a bead!”  _

Bilbo almost jumped in excitement. The plan was still shoddy at best and he still had no backup plan or even any certainty that things would work out but at least it was  _ something _ , at least now he had more than a half crossed list.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“I- I’m not sure if this is wise to continue, Bilbo...” said Fíli, in a low, astonished voice as he looked around the mess in the forge, eyes wide and frightened. 

Bilbo could hardly fault him for it, looking around the forge he was trying very hard to not have the same reaction. He wasn’t entirely sure what was worse, the pile of weapons lying haphazardly all over the floor, the molten gold that was dripping on top of those, the bits of shrapnel that were still dangerously left on where Bilbo's station had been. Or perhaps his injured hand that still had a bit of metal sticking from the palm. It wasn’t very deep but the wound was oozing a little blood, something that Bilbo was very pointedly refusing to look at, but the constant dripping on top of his left foot was making it rather hard.

“I- Yes, perhaps we should stop,” Bilbo answered faintly, after swallowing thickly and harshly, wincing when his hand stung painfully as his fingers twitched. He grabbed onto Fíli’s robe with his unharmed hand, weakly tugging at it. “Do you mind helping me to go see Oín? I-I think, otherwise, I might pass out.”

Fíli turned to look at him in fright and yelped when he saw Bilbo’s bloody hand. “When did that happen?! What- Oh god, uncle is going to kill me. Come on, let’s go,” the dwarf said, putting his arm around Bilbo’s waist firmly and steering him slowly towards the entrance of the forge. 

They left slowly but with a certain urgency that Bilbo appreciated. It was already bad enough that something like this had happened, but at least Bilbo could be thankful Fíli had been with him. The lad acted well under pressure and knew how to keep his calm, unlike Bilbo, who was seriously close to fainting. He couldn’t even want to imagine what would have happened had Bilbo been alone, or with someone like Ori or Kíli, who tended to panic worse than Bilbo in situations like this.

Once they found Oín, Bilbo was pushed into a chair and quickly fed a foul brew that promised to help with the pain. Had Bilbo more strength he would have rather brained himself before drinking that nasty thing but as out of it as he was he barely had the strength to gag. He didn’t think he had lost that much blood but how could he know? He was no healer, for all accounts he might be dying and being none the wiser.

Luckily for him, the tea also had something to calm his nerves, so when Oín finally sat by his side to look at the wound, Bilbo was feeling rather calm and hazy.

“What in Arda happened?” Oín asked, picking a pair of tweezers and drawing towards Bilbo’s hand. He quickly looked the other way, he might not be able to feel pain as sharply as before, and his head might feel full of cotton, but he still had enough sense on him to know watching would either make him sick or finally faint.

“I don’t know! I was with Bilbo in the forges. He wanted, you know, to make something for Thorin,” Fíli began explaining, the last part carefully whispered as he looked around the room, making sure no one had heard it. Bilbo found it rather sweet of him and tried to focus on the conversation as he bit his lip trying to stop himself from yelping or straight up crying out when he felt a sudden burst of burning pain on his palm. “I thought of starting easy and I was showing him how to make S hooks and Bilbo was doing really well so I turned my head for a minute, only to turn back again and find him tripping over a weapon’s crate someone had left and he ended up spilling boiling gold all over the floor. I was about to show him how to reutilize broken pieces and melt them again but when I saw him trip, the box I was carrying fell, and some pieces spilt as well. Bilbo managed to catch himself on his station but I suppose some of the broken pieces must have landed there and that’s how he got the wound.”

Bilbo saw Oín blink in astonishment, and he felt concurred to agreeing. He still wasn’t sure how all of that had happened. Of all the times to be clumsy…

But looking at it now, Bilbo was rather lucky he had ended up with a cut palm instead of something worse like horrible burns or impaled with one of the weapons. Yes, all in all. Bilbo had been rather lucky.

Oín huffed. “Of course that happened. I’m not even surprised with you involved, lad,” he said, looking Bilbo dead in the eye. Bilbo bit his lip to stifle the pout that wanted to come out on his mouth. That was rather unfair, it wasn’t as if Bilbo wanted for trouble to find him… “Luckily for you, the wound is not deep, despite how much it bled you ain’t even need stitches. Just keep it wrapped up, don’t move your hand too much for a couple of days and clean it often,” he added, gathering the bandages to wrap it up.

Fíli sighed in relief and Bilbo couldn’t help but feel slightly bad for having worried the poor lad so much, he had only wanted to help him and ended up with quite the fright.

“Thank you, Oín. Is it really not that big?” Bilbo asked hesitantly.

It wasn’t even that it hurt it too horribly, it throbbed uncomfortably but it wasn’t something to weep over. What worried Bilbo was something else. It was rather odd, truth be told, as unpleasant as they were he didn’t have much issue watching or helping treat other people’s wounds. He had done it enough after the battle, both with the company and others that have participated in it. But when it came to his own wounds it was a different matter... 

“If you get queasy ask Thorin to help you. He has enough experience with wounds like this. Don’t worry too much lad, you’ll be fine in a couple of days, but if it hurts too much come see me. I’ll give you something.”

“Thank you, my friend, that I’ll do,” Bilbo replied, much more animated. His friend did really know him well.

“Bilbo, one last thing,” Oín said, making Bilbo pause. 

Oín grasped Bilbo’s uninjured hand between his own bigger hands. “Yes?” asked Bilbo, when the healer said nothing, simply casting a worried look at him.

“Stop worrying so much lad, I know you want to hurry up and finish the courting but Thorin will wait for as much as he needs and you stressing over it is not going to help anyone.” With a last pat on his hand, Oín let go of his hand, getting up and heading towards his workstation, where the remains of some sort of medicine was being cleaned off.

Bilbo blinked in surprise at the serious and yet affectionate way Oín had said that. After a moment he answered, “I- I suppose you’re right, I’ll keep that in mind. It’s just- I just want to make Thorin happy...”

“And he will, I’m sure. Just be careful.” Oín replied, looking above his shoulder, smiling fondly at Bilbo, a slightly amused smile on his face.

Fíli clapped Bilbo on the back, startling him. “Oín is right, Bilbo! You already make uncle happy and this courting thing is pretty much a technicality, I bet uncle would have married you ages ago if the courtship hadn’t been required by the council.” 

Bilbo laughed at that, knowing it to be true. He could still vividly remember the fit Thorin had thrown when the council had pressed for the courtship. 

“Thank you, both of you. I’ll try to take things with more calm,” Bilbo replied, feeling more relaxed, the permanent worry he had been feeling for weeks on end, slightly eased off. 

Bilbo traced a hand over the bandages of his injured one. It still hurt but now it was more of a tingly needle-like sensation, but Bilbo didn’t doubt that once the numbing cream Oín had applied to him faded it would be quite sore. The effects of the tea had already faded, having been a potent one but with a short-lasting effect, so Bilbo already felt more clear-headed.

“You do that, lad!” Oín shouted as he disappeared into one of the cabinets that stored all sorts of herbs and special thinners. After a moment he emerged and labelled them both a raised eyebrow. “Alright, get out now. I still have more patients to see and ain’t need more distractions!”

With a last smile and a peppy goodbye from Fíli, they hastily left, not inclined to evoke Oín’s ire.

They calmly made their way towards Bilbo’s rooms, after Fíli had insisted to accompany him. Bilbo couldn’t deny he appreciated it. Judging by the hour Thorin would mostly already be there, waiting for Bilbo so they could prepare dinner together like they did every night. Having Fíli there with him helped Bilbo distract himself and stop him from worrying about Thorin’s frazzled reaction when he took in his new wound.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you, furthermore, I only managed to get you injured,” Fíli said, looking at his feet in defeat, hand rubbing at his neck.

Bilbo blinked at him in surprise, his face instantly taking on an indulgent smile. Silly dwarf…

“That’s okay, Fíli. You don’t have to blame yourself for what happened. You tried your best in helping me, besides, it was silly of me to think I could master the craft enough to make something decent for Thorin. No, lad. If anything this is my fault,” Bilbo insisted, patting Fíli on one of his broad shoulders.

“But I wanted to help you and instead you just wasted your time and ended up injured,” Fíli said dejectedly, looking quite frankly more than a little miserable.

“Oh, Fíli. That’s not true, my boy, you helped me plenty.” Bilbo tutted as he carded his uninjured hand through Fíli’s golden locks lovingly. “I’m much calmer than I was and even though I don’t know yet what to give your uncle I’m not in such a hurry anymore. I would say you did more than enough.”

Fíli always acted so strong and independent, even more so now with the weight of his duties as the heir of the throne, Bilbo tended to forget how soft his heart was. Personally, Bilbo didn’t mind, he had come to be privy of a certain fragility that Fíli, or Kíli for that matter, refused to show anyone else that wasn’t Dís or Thorin. He felt rather fortunate for that.

“Really?” asked Fíli, looking a little more cheered up.

“Truly.”

“Alright,” Fíli said, giving Bilbo a small grin. “If you need help with anything else, let me know, okay?”

“I will. Now run along, my lad. I’m sure you’re being missed. I already kept you plenty enough,” Bilbo told him once they reached the door of his rooms. He gave the dwarf a last pat on the head, pointedly ignoring how far he had to stretch to reach, or how Fíli indulgently lowered his neck to not make Bilbo strain.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay a little more?” 

“That’s quite alright! Thorin is probably already there and if he’s not he’ll be here in a minute. I’ll be fine with him,” Bilbo replied.

Fíli flinched, most likely scared of Thorin’s reaction, something that Bilbo found quite ridiculous, frankly. Certainly, Thorin tended to be a bit of a worrywart but he would hardly blame Fíli for it. It had been merely an accident. But Bilbo didn’t mention it and, with a quick but affectionate goodbye, Fíli left.

With a last sigh, Bilbo turned and opened the door with his key, ready to face Thorin’s worry head-on.

As soon as he opened the door the nice smell of food welcomed Bilbo, engulfing him, and making his starved belly grumble in longing and protest of not having been fed for far too many hours.

“Bilbo,  _ Kurdel _ , is that you?” Thorin’s voice came muffled from the kitchen.

“Hello, my dear!” Bilbo shouted so he could be heard. After cleaning his feet at the entrance he quickly made his way towards the kitchen where he found Thorin stirring a pot, shoulders tense and a deep frown on his face in clear concentration.

It didn’t matter that Thorin had become a quite adept cook since he had tried to learn for Bilbo’s sake, he still took the task as one takes towards battle. 

“You cooked,” Bilbo said, upon arriving, smiling at Thorin, feeling incredibly touched, as he felt every time the dwarf attempted to make something for Bilbo on his own volition.

“Oh, there you are!” Thorin exclaimed, sending a last sharp glance at the pot before cleaning his hands on a towel and walking towards Bilbo to greet him. “You weren’t coming so I thought I would start dinner in the meantime, I didn’t want you to be hungry when you arrived only to find there was no food,” Thorin explained, carding a hand through Bilbo’s short curls before leaning in and pressing their forehead together.

Bilbo leaned into him, closing his eyes and enjoying the closeness. “Thank you, I-” Suddenly a burst of pain coursed through his arm when Thorin tried to take his injured hand, cutting his voice off as he yelped, yanking his hand from Thorin’s hold.

Thorin instantly looked alarmed, taking in Bilbo’s bandaged hand he inhaled sharply, grabbing Bilbo by the arm, this time much more carefully, almost as one would hold a newborn. Barely gracing Bilbo, he lifted the arm, mindful of not touching his hand again, and brought it towards his face to examine it.

“What happened?” Thorin asked in a quiet voice, almost a whisper, eyebrows pulled down in deep worry.

“I- Well- '' Bilbo hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell Thorin, but after looking at Thorin’s concerned face his hesitation all but disappeared. There wasn’t a valid reason for why he would hide anything like this from Thorin. Yes, there was the matter of his courting gift but now that Bilbo had discarded that idea it was nonsense to try to keep it from Thorin. “I got hurt in the forges, cut my hand with a bit of spare metal,” Bilbo admitted sheepishly.

Thorin blinked in confusion, eyebrows pulling into a frown. “What were you doing in the forges?” 

“Trying to make you a gift,” Bilbo said, as quietly as he could — barely a mumble — refusing to meet Thorin’s eyes and feeling more than a tad foolish.

“What? I didn’t catch that.” 

Bilbo bit down a curse and with a defeated sigh he repeated his words. “I said I was trying to make you a gift,”

“What? A gift?” Thorin questioned, confused, adding more to Bilbo’s mortification. “But why would you- Oh...” Thorin said as realization took over his face.

“Indeed,” Bilbo said, petulantly, feeling more than a little embarrassed. It wasn’t about the gift, goodness no, it was more about the fact that how utterly he had failed and, instead of a shiny and valuable gift, he had ended with a split palm. “I know it was stupid of me, but I-”

Bilbo’s words were cut off once again, but this time not by pain, instead he felt a pair of warm lips and the scratchy feel of Thorin’s beard in the middle of his forehead, the sudden action quickly shutting him off.

Drawing back Bilbo looked at him, with confusion and surprise. Thorin met his eyes evenly, voice low and calm as he asked, “is it very deep?” The tip of his finger gracing against the bandages.

“Eh?” Bilbo asked, rather dumbly, before quickly clearing his throat, feeling it quite dry. “Oh! No, no, Oín said it wouldn’t take more than a few days to heal. Didn't even need stitches,” Bilbo added, forcing a smile to ease off Thorin’s worries.

But again, Thorin didn’t look that very worried. Yes, he seemed preoccupied and not entirely too happy that Bilbo had gotten hurt but he wasn’t panicking or anything of the like. 

But… Bilbo was being rather unfair with him, wasn't he? Thinking about it, Thorin hadn’t done that in a long time now, almost as long as their courting had begun…

So worried he had been about everything, Thorin's reaction had been just another thing that had weighed on him, his stress making it seem worse than it was.

Mentally apologizing to his betrothed, Bilbo slumped against him, cheeks squished against his solid and warm chest, wrapping his arms loosely around his middle, mindful of his injury.

Thorin returned the hug, softly kissing the top of Bilbo’s head. “I’m glad. I hope you didn’t think of going alone there. You’re a very capable hobbit,  _ amrâlimê,  _ but you’re no blacksmith...”

“I was with Fíli. In fact," Bilbo replied, "it’s thanks to him I didn’t end up worse. I tried my best but I suppose I’m not suited for it, besides, even if I learn it would still take too long to make you something that wasn’t an S hook. I didn’t think that through,” Bilbo finished explaining, feeling rather down all of a sudden. 

Bilbo felt Thorin nuzzle along his curls, his breath tickling him. “I don’t think so. You were just trying your best, as you always do. Perhaps your plan was a bit hastily made but I could never fault you for that, or have you forgotten the time I tried to make your grandmother’s stew without a recipe?” 

Bilbo couldn’t stifle the laugh that bubbled from his mouth. That time had been an absolute failure, Thorin had ended up the kitchen half burnt, including one of his fingers, and a couple of cuts as a gift from that attempt. It had been his second attempt at cooking a hobbitish dish all on his own, and he had wanted to impress Bilbo. He could still vividly remember the shame and distraught he had seen on Thorin’s face when he had caught him trying to clean the evidence.

Not sure how to express his gratitude, Bilbo just squeezed Thorin tighter. “Thank you,” he added, in a soft murmur, hoping that would be enough.

Thorin hummed, and after kissing Bilbo’s head one last time, he drew back. He carefully brought Bilbo's injured hand to his lips and pressed an incredibly soft kiss on it, murmuring something about to speed up the healing, making Bilbo's heart do a somersault. “You’re very welcome, now would you like to eat?” he asked, offering Bilbo a playful smile.

Bilbo’s stomach growled in response, making them both chuckle. “What did you make?” Bilbo asked, still feeling rather warm inside. The familiar smell of food invading his senses but still not enough to put his finger on what dish it was.

Thorin smirked at him, smug. “Your grandmother’s stew, of course.”

Bilbo bit his lip to stop the besotted smile that threatened to take over his face. What an impossible dwarf… Bilbo had certainly gotten lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Kurdel_ \- heart of all hearts  
>  _Amrâlimê_ \- my love


	2. A drowning man will clutch at a straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second part!  
> Bilbo is ready to do anything, and desperate times call for desperate measures... 👀  
> Thank god he has Thorin by his side.

Quickly another week passed, and with it, Bilbo’s ideas came crashing one by one, either by the mere ridiculousness of some or by failure alone. 

And with every new failure, Dwalin’s smug face and knowing eyes were present. Bilbo would even find it endearing, with how much attention his friend paid to his plights, had it not being so excruciatingly annoying. As things were, Bilbo had half a mind of throwing Dwalin down a big set of stairs, maybe down the treasury room. Let him get lost in all the shiny…

All came to head when one morning found Bilbo sitting in the library, pouring over an old book about magical objects of Middle Earth. Trying to find a good enough object he could acquire for Thorin...

The Crown of Gondor sounded like a good item, although Bilbo doubted his capabilities to steal it, it would surely be guarded, but again it was much better than trying to go for Galadriel’s Phial…

Bilbo sighed despondently.

“Yer going on another quest? One wasn’t enough for your hobbit soul?” someone asked, loudly, startling Bilbo bad enough to make him shriek.

Bilbo looked up in alarm only to find Dwalin with a smirk in place, looking more than a little entertained by Bilbo’s reaction.

“I despise you,” Bilbo flatly said in response.

Dwalin snorted but said nothing else before taking a seat in front of him.

When he did nothing but stare at Bilbo, his stupidly conniving smile in place, Bilbo glared at him. “Do you need anything?”

“I don’t know. Do ye?” Dwalin asked, face impassible and calculating. 

“From you? Never,” Bilbo replied crossly, purposefully crossing his arms and looking the other way, as if the mere act would make Dwalin leave. Bilbo could only hope…

Bilbo saw Dwalin rolling his eyes, for once no smirk in place. “You should just take my advice, best yer going to get in this short time.”

“You don’t know that yet, perhaps I can find something else,” Bilbo counteracted, almost desperately, his words sounding weak even to him.

Dwalin sighed, that particular sigh Bilbo hated so much. It was the one that he used when he thought someone was being particularly dense and Bilbo biting his tongue was the only thing that stopped him from lashing out at the dwarf. 

Bilbo levelled him with an almost petulant glower, meeting Dwalin’s serious eyes, all the amusement faded from his face. In fact, the only thing he could pinpoint on his bearded face was worry and determination. Never a good mix when it came to Dwalin, but nonetheless, it was enough to make Bilbo pay attention to him. 

“Listen to me, laddie. Think about it, but this time take this seriously. I didn’t tell you that only to annoy ye. I’ve heard about yer other attempts and it had ended up in a waste of time or ye getting hurt.” Dwalin pointedly looked at Bilbo’s now healed hand, making him curl it into a fist. “You can’t really be thinking of robbing Gondor, ye ain’t this thick-headed. So, please, take my advice seriously. I know you don’t fancy tattoos but perhaps for Thorin you may come to like them.”

“It’s not that simple,” Bilbo replied weakly, looking the other way. He knew it. He knew Dwalin was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to admit it. Or listen to him, for that matter.

“No, it’s not, but at least think about it. Yer barely eating from the stress, lad and we’re all worried.”

Bilbo flinched at that, guilt curling on his chest. He hadn’t meant to worry his friends, but sometimes it was inevitable, like in this instance. Bilbo would have liked to relax, truly! This whole gifting business was rather exhausting but at the moment, he couldn’t do anything, except finally coming up with a decent gift. 

He had tried everything after the failed attempt at the forges, all from crocheting to sparring, each attempt worse than the first. 

So while Dwalin’s words were touching and served as a reminder that how all of this was affecting not only him, but also his family, it hardly mattered. Nothing would change until he finally finished the gift. But Bilbo still took his words seriously, at the very least he owed the dwarf that. He might have been annoying Bilbo to no end since he had first given Bilbo the silly idea of the tattoo —  _ a tattoo! As if! _ — but he still had aided Bilbo when he had needed it. Be it either with helping Bilbo train or by distracting Thorin so he could slip away without his betrothed noticing.

“Okay, okay!” Bilbo exclaimed with a frustrated huff, hands in the air, relenting. “I’ll think about it, but!” Bilbo loudly said when Dwalin began looking too smug for his liking. “But-” Bilbo insisted, “you have to stop giving me those knowing looks and those awful smirks of yours because if you do by Yavanna I’ll end up trotting you, see if you smirk at me again!”

To Bilbo’s satisfaction, Dwalin swallowed thickly before reluctantly nodding at him, looking almost grumpy about it. Nothing odd there, so with a last huff at Bilbo he got up.

“Now, after having you steal all my fun, I’m going to go train the guards. Find me if ye need me,” Dwalin said, not bothering to turn around as he lazily waved at Bilbo.

“Have fun!” Bilbo shouted after him, getting a few glares from the other few dwarves that were also in the library, making him cringe and offer a soft apology. Dwalin’s pissed grumbled made up for it, though.

So, as the day progressed and, as he had promised to do, he took Dwalin’s suggestions at heart and tried to think of all the advantages and disadvantages it would bring, his personal distaste for them notwithstanding.

In the end, after having spent the day in a daze, utterly oblivious to the ongoings of the rest of the mountain, he still wasn’t able to come up with a clear answer. Even worse, now he didn’t know if getting a tattoo was a good or bad idea.

Not for the first time, and most certainly not the last, Bilbo cursed Dwalin in all the ways he knew.

So when his time to have his dinner with Thorin arrived Bilbo was a bundle of confusion. 

“Something on your mind?” Thorin asked, from where he was carefully cutting carrots in little perfect cubes. It was taking him ages but Bilbo appreciated the dedication.

At his words Bilbo jolted from where he was stirring at the pot that contained the minced meat with mashed tomato, vacantly looking into the distance.

“Sorry, what? I was a little distracted,” Bilbo said, cringing at his carelessness. At least he hadn’t burnt the tomato, that would have been a disgrace and Bilbo wouldn’t be surprised if his father came from the grave to smack him with his favourite ladle.

Thorin chuckled lowly. “Aye, I noticed. That’s why I asked. Is everything alright? It seems something is bothering you.”

Bilbo paused for a moment, pondering if he could go with this sort of thing to Thorin, before deciding that yes. If anything he was the more suited to help Bilbo, as always. Besides, he didn’t want to hide anything from his bearded love. Quite the contrary, had it been up to him, Bilbo would have come crying to him, begging for help with his gift. But he clearly couldn’t do that, so keeping quiet it was.

Bilbo hummed. “I had just been wondering about all the fuss about tattoos. The other day I heard a guard bragging about her daughter having gotten one for her majority,” Bilbo said, expertly spinning the truth. Just because he wanted he couldn’t truly explain the whole truth to Thorin, so this silly story would have to make do.

Thorin made a sound of understanding, still focused on his tiny carrots. “I suppose it had to be odd for you, with hobbits not having anything of the like,” Thorin said, turning briefly to smile at Bilbo, eyes as open as ever, never judging him, no matter how strange Bilbo’s culture may appear to him. It was something Bilbo loved him endlessly for. “For us, it’s so ingrained in our culture, it’s almost as common as breathing. It’s regarded highly and while a tattoo can stand for anything, it’s most common for it to be added to your body on special occasions. Majorities, the birth of a child, as a sign of love towards your family or your spouse. A tattoo can have many meanings but all show something important. That’s why we dwarves valued them so. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, it does, indeed,” Bilbo said, and it certainly had. Now Bilbo could see it in a new light, but still, another question remained. Bilbo hesitated before asking. It wasn’t until Thorin finally dumped his perfectly square carrots into the pot that Bilbo found his courage. “What about you?”

“Hm?” Thorin asked, distractedly as he smoothly took Bilbo’s place, mixing the pot before lowering the heat and putting the lid on to let it cook. Bilbo for his part put the bread in the oven and turned to look at Thorin, suddenly finding himself nervous. 

“Your tattoos… Do they hold a special meaning?” Bilbo finally asked, surprised when his voice didn’t stutter.

Thorin turned to look at him, blinking in faint surprise before a small but delighted grin took over his face. He grabbed Bilbo’s hand and softly guided him towards the living room. “Come, I’ll show you.” 

Bilbo gladly followed him. It had been too long since he had seen Thorin’s tattoos, or him without anything other than a heavy tunic or the shirts he wore under all his royal garb. All thanks to the absurd courting norms, they couldn’t even nap together… 

After everything they had gone through together, Bilbo found it rather ridiculous if you asked him.

And judging by the numerous times Thorin had ignored such norms and ended up falling asleep on his shoulder, it seemed the dwarf thought so as well.

Thorin took off his tunic and shirt, and Bilbo let out a breathless sigh at the sight. It had been too long since he had seen his betrothed bare chest and he looked as magnificent as always, his tattoos marking his skin in the most enchanting ways. 

The sight was enough to make Bilbo waver in his resolve to not listen to Dwalin’s suggestion, another thing that made him crack…

Thorin smiled mischievously at him, most likely having noticed Bilbo’s starry eyes. He blushed and looked down at his feet, feeling unexpectedly coy. 

Bilbo felt Thorin approach and soon enough the dwarf was engulfing him on his arms. The warm skin of his neck warming Bilbo’s slightly chilled cheeks. Bilbo melted into the embrace and curled his arms around Thorin’s waist, enjoying the feeling of the hard muscles under his touch. 

It was always so interesting to see… Thorin was made of sharp edges and hard muscles, big and imposing and yet, he held Bilbo with care and a certain softness completely unexpected of his appearance. He regaled Bilbo with a tender sort of love and smiles so sweet they made Bilbo melt from the inside out.

He loved him.

Bilbo loved this dwarf full of contradictions with his whole hobbitish being.

Thorin drew back a little, taking Bilbo’s hand on his own and putting it on his right bicep, where his biggest tattoo rested. He met Bilbo’s eye, just a breath away from each other, his incredibly blue eyes warm and loving as he looked at Bilbo.

He took Bilbo’s finger and traced the beginning of the tattoo, where something like a rounded square with intertwined lines rested on his skin. “This is my personal seal. This one here signals me as a Master blacksmith,” Thorin continued, making Bilbo’s finger trail down towards something like an arch, made of bold thick lines where it intertwined with some of the other's tattoos, all together in harmony painting quite the flattering picture in Thorin's skin. 

And so on Thorin kept explaining every single one of his tattoos, their bodies close and Thorin’s hand holding his own, making him trace every single design, every single bit of ink that was fused into Thorin’s skin. From the tattoos that cast him as part of the royal family of Durin, the one he got on his majority, to the ones that stood for his family, for the lost ones, and so much more. 

He laid almost bare in front of Bilbo, in more than once sense, showing him every bit of him, every story that had been inked into his skin and Bilbo listened to all, hungrily taking in all that Thorin was willing to share with him.

“This one here is the most important one,” Thorin said after he had finished his explanation. After he finished telling Bilbo his life and much more, pressing Bilbo’s hand on his chest, right on top of his heart.

“Thorin, my love, that place is empty,” Bilbo replied, confused as he stared at clean skin, the hair that lay on his chest tickling his fingertips.

“Not for long,” Thorin counteracted with a smile. At Bilbo’s questioning glance he continued. “I planned to make it a surprise but I don’t see the harm in you knowing about it now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Once we marry here is where the tattoo I’ll carry for you, the one marking you as my One, will go,” Thorin whispered, as he pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s. “I love you and I don’t need a lifetime to prove me you’re the one for me. I know it,” Thorin said, voice full of conviction and love,  _ oh, _ so much love… “In this life and the next ones,” he added, affectionately rubbing his nose against Bilbo, the closest thing to a kiss they could do during their courtship.

Bilbo took a shuddering breath, eyes closing as he processed the information, his eyelashes clumping as unshed tears gathered behind his eyelids. 

Thorin’s One, he was Thorin’s One…

Of course, he had heard those words before, many times in fact, and Bilbo was keenly aware of the significance behind them. But this… A tattoo for a One… it was almost unheard of. It was much more…

Bilbo had learnt about them, Ones, that’s it. It was a rather complex thing. It wasn’t anything as people having been bound before the beginning of time, or even something fate decided for you. It was simply the person you loved the most, the one you wanted to spend your life with, your romantical companion. And that was well and all but having a tattoo for the whole world to see was another step farther. It was the ultimate declaration of love. 

As far as Bilbo knew that was something only long time married couples got, something that came from the reassurance that yes, they were each other’s Ones and nothing was drawing them apart. But to do it right after the wedding or even sooner? Unheard of.

That’s why this meant so much to Bilbo, even if this wasn’t his culture, there were some things that even to Bilbo were sacred, and this was one of those. 

“Oh,” was the only thing Bilbo could say, as tears gathered in his eyes. “Oh,” he repeated, unintelligently.

This-

This changed everything.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“I’ll do it,” Bilbo suddenly said, appearing from behind Dwalin and starling the dwarf, who let out a straddle of curses. Bilbo enjoyed the amusement that blossomed at the reaction. It was always rather fun to startle dwarves, that with his quiet steps and natural stealth — only bested by Nori — never seemed to spot his arrival. Dwalin was the most amusing of all, wincing and cursing every time Bilbo startled him.

“What now, lad?” Dwalin asked, sending a glare at Bilbo before continuing his task of sharpening his beloved axes. 

They were alone in the weapons room and Bilbo had made sure that that would remain as he had locked the door from the inside. The last thing he needed was someone overhearing and the whole mountain knowing of his plans.

“The tattoo...” Bilbo reluctantly said, not meeting Dwalin’s glance, hearing as the dwarf stopped his movements for short, eyes pierced on Bilbo. “I’ll do it,” Bilbo repeated louder.

“Really?” Dwalin asked, an odd tone in his voice. Bilbo raised his head and met Dwalin’s slightly concerned gaze peering at him.

“Yes, I’m certain,” Bilbo answered, confused at Dwalin’s sudden hesitance.

“Why now? You reeled at the very idea a mere few days ago,” Dwalin pressed. 

“And you seemed bent in making me cave. I thought you would be thrilled,” Bilbo accused scantily with a frown as he couldn’t understand where this behaviour was coming from.

“I just don’t want you to regret this. I know I pushed, and I’m sorry for that. I simply don’t want you to do this out of desperation,” Dwalin explained, putting his axes away and turning to face Bilbo fully. “The tattoo is a fine idea, aye, that’s for sure, but don’t do it because it’s the only option you have,” he added.

“I’m not doing it out of desperation,” Bilbo explained, determined. “I’m doing it out of love,” he added, offering Dwalin a faint grin.

“What?” Dwalin asked, this time him being the one entirely confused.

“I spoke with Thorin a couple of days ago and- well,” Bilbo hesitated, “the topic of tattoos came up, as I wanted his opinion on this and he told me-” Bilbo swallowed thickly as a surge of emotion rose from his belly, “-he told me he was planning on getting a tattoo in my honour, right after we got married.” Bilbo met Dwalin’s eyes, trying to make him understand the weight of what he was about to tell him, of the secret he was confiding in him. “He plans to get a tattoo that marks me as his One, right on top of his heart, after the wedding,” Bilbo finally said, voice breathless and quiet, reverberating around the room.

Dwalin’s eyes were opened wide, a look of stricken shock on his rough face, it was odd, seeing him so surprised but Bilbo could hardly fault him after what he had sprung on him. After a moment the dwarf swallowed thickly, eyes moving quickly around as if searching, while his mouth tried to form words. “He really told you that?” Dwalin finally asked, voice unnaturally quiet.

“Yes,” Bilbo replied, just as quiet.

At his words Dwalin huffed, his tense shoulders dropping, and a fond smile taking place on his face. “What a smitten fool,” Dwalin mocked, shaking his head. Bilbo chuckled at that and soon enough Dwalin joined.

But Bilbo’s amusement and merriment soon turned into tears, as he once again was overcome with emotion. He sniffled, the remains on his laugh still in place as a wavering grin, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. 

Dwalin tutted but smiled at Bilbo understandingly, patting his back and wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a show of support. 

That was enough to tip Bilbo off the edge and soon enough he found himself wailing in his friend's arms, his heart bursting with happiness and love, so much love it was his entire body felt about to burst from it.

“He loves me, he loves me so much, Dwalin...” Bilbo babbled messily, his face wet with tears and snot. “I always knew, of course, but this-”

“I know, lad. I know,” Dwalin offered softly, rubbing at Bilbo’s arm. His body still shaking from silent laughter.

“I want to do it,” Bilbo repeated, sniffing, breath stuttering as he tried to calm down. “This is beyond the tattoos and the courtship. I want to do this for Thorin because I love him. I’m choosing this,” Bilbo explained, raising his head from where it had been shoved in Dwalin’s shoulder. “I want to show that silly old dwarf that I love him just as much.”

“Are ye sure about this? No one has ever gotten a tattoo for a One even before they get married,” Dwalin asked, half-heartedly, most likely knowing Bilbo wouldn’t change his mind but still feeling obliged to ask.

“All the more reason to do it!” Bilbo exclaimed with determination.

Dwalin guffawed. “Ye fools are made for each other,” he said and after a moment, more calmly, a fond smile sent at Bilbo and he gently knocked their forehead together, he added, “I’m glad you two met.”

Bilbo beamed at him, feeling happier and lighter than ever.

“Alright then,” Dwalin said, once they have both calmed, “now all you need to know before going forward is to decide on a design and the placement. Then the rest will be smooth sailing.”

“Oh dear,” Bilbo lamented, having forgotten all about that part. How incredibly foolish of him! It had been the thing Thorin had told was the most important, the design and the placement, blasted it all! “I don’t know about the design yet but I know I want it in the same place Thorin’s will be. I want us to match,” Bilbo said with a nod.

Dwalin huffed teasingly at his words but Bilbo chose to ignore him. “Well, give the design some thought, but don’t stress over it, you’ll come up with it in the most unexpected moment, it’ll come to ye,” Dwalin said before smirking at Bilbo and adding, “and if not ye can always ink your backside with Thorin’s manhood.”

Bilbo shrieked at his words, his face burning red as he slapped Dwalin repeatedly in the arm while the stupid dwarf laughed away.

Bilbo huffed in embarrassment, his face still burning. Blasted Dwalin!

But as much as Bilbo would love to curse and throw a fit, the dwarf was right, not about the latter, Yavanna forbid, no. He was right about the design though, Bilbo couldn’t rush it this time, now that he had his final gift he just had to think of something that showed his utmost love for Thorin. He still didn’t know what that would be, but as Dwalin had said, it would surely come to him sooner or later. After all, how hard could it be?

  
  


* * *

  
  


Incredibly hard, as it seemed! Bilbo really ought to stop saying these type of things, as it looked like he only ended up cursing himself in the process…

He huffed and puffed as he threw away another useless piece of paper into the fire. It had been over two weeks since his talk with Dwalin and no matter what Bilbo did, nothing seemed to work. His mind was a blank pond of nothingness, void of ideas or good thoughts…

And while he had been on rather high spirits for the entirety of the time, he was starting to feel rather miserable at his continued losses.

It should have been easy enough. Bilbo knew what he wanted to portray into his tattoo and yet every time he sat down to work on it he came up with blank pages or drawings so simple it looked like a fauntling had done them. And no matter what, he couldn’t take this lightly. It was an incredibly important decision, tattoos stayed forever and Bilbo wanted to smile every time he looked at his, not frown and think that he should have chosen something else.

So Bilbo, wallowing in his disappointment, did what he was best at when he fretted, he  _ researched _ . He went to the library and found all the books and records about Ones tattoos, and with a little help from Balin, he read every single one in a single day. 

That night he came back to his rooms feeling much calmer as a few questions had been answered and many problems solved, but also wary. He now knew, more than ever than he couldn’t take this lightly and not any design would do, because as it was, getting a tattoo in honour of your One was not as easy as getting a normal one. You had to follow certain rules and norms to make it possible, and even then it was not a given it would happen, as the Master tattoo artist — specialized in such tattoos — had to approve of your design.

So far Bilbo had solved the issue about the placement, almost always in the chest, right on top of the heart. If that was not possible the next places were either the wrist or the neck, where the pulse could be felt the hardest. 

On the other hand, he had learnt a few things, such as that the type of ink used for such tattoos was unique, something no other tattoo could carry, and that was gold. A particular type of it that was safe to infuse in ink and have on the skin. In Ones tattoos it was customary to have the tattoo either completely golden or have normal ink mixed with the golden one, serving to accent certain parts of the design.

And lastly, the rules for the design itself, Bilbo’s reason for agony…

They weren’t something outrageous or restrictive, and Bilbo — in a way — agreed wholeheartedly with them, but at the same time, they brought more than a wee bit of worry to Bilbo. Because he had no idea how he would accomplish such a thing.

As it was, the tattoo you got in honour of your One had to be something based on their very nature, something if anyone saw, they would instantly know it was them, but also had to carry something to signal the bond that the couple shared. 

It was rather simple but at the same time almost an impossible quest. Bilbo didn’t wonder why not many got those tattoos. It was madness just to think about all of that. 

And yet, Bilbo still tried, he would not give up. This is what he wanted and by Eru, he would do it!

Quickly the weeks passed, thoughts of the design always at the front of his mind, no matter what, Bilbo never stopped thinking, with the pass of the days his impulsive need to find the perfect design as quickly as possible faded, his wanting to not regret anything overcoming any thought of rushing things.

And all the way Dwalin was by his side, Bilbo’s only confidant of this mad plan of his, dismissing ideas or drawings, offering serious suggestions and not so serious ones, in hopes to help Bilbo. And in all that time Thorin was there as well, strong and caring by Bilbo's side, never pushing and always patient, willing to wait another lifetime if needed to get his last gift. 

The weeks were filled with good food made by two couples of hands, secret kisses on the cheek when no one was looking and strong arms embracing him, filling Bilbo with so much love it would last him a thousand lifetimes.

It was in such a night that it finally happened, that all his efforts came to fruition.

“Are you certain you have looked in here?” Bilbo asked, balanced on a chair as he looked into a high cabinet. 

“I’m certain, _Lukhudel_ ,” Thorin replied with a sigh, searching under the sofa.

Bilbo huffed, not sure where to look next. He was never again letting him roam around without supervision while drunk, that was for sure. 

The day before his fool of a dwarf had gone to celebrate with the rest of the company after a successful deal with a few important dwarf Lords from other mountains and, unexpectedly, had gotten incredibly drunk. Bilbo, who had been conversing with Dís and Dori had failed to notice how much Thorin was drinking until it was too late. 

After the celebrations were over he had accompanied Thorin to his rooms and helped him lay in bed, while Thorin rambled drunkenly about how much he hated his kingly crown. As drunk as he was, Bilbo didn’t pay him any mind, besides his current one was much better than the ugly heavy one he wore when they arrived at the mountain so Bilbo simply dismissed it.

Oh, how wrong he had been... Had he listened all of this would have been avoided. Now here they were, destroying Thorin’s rooms in search of the crown that Thorin, in his drunken state had decided to hide when no one was looking.

It would have been alright had not Thorin needed to make an urgent visit to Dale to talk with Bard, and in this type of matters not using his crown would be seen as a grave insult — perhaps not by Bard himself, as easy-going as he was — but it would seem like so for many others.

Bilbo tried to think, other places that Thorin must have hidden the blasted thing — at the very least they knew it was within the rooms as Thorin hadn’t been able to leave. They had already searched everywhere and now Thorin’s rooms looked like a bunch of plunderers had come to lay waste on them. What was worse was that Thorin, in all his stubbornness, refused to tell another soul about what he had done out of embarrassment, so now it was just them searching. 

Bilbo saw as Thorin went away to the bathroom to look there again, and coming up short of ideas except for one, Bilbo sighed and set to business. With a disgusted grimace, he grabbed the waste barrel and without another moment to doubt he stuck his entire arm inside and began rummaging through it, feeling slimy and wet things brush against his skin. Most of it was from the times they had cooked and threw away the waste of the inedible things, it didn’t make it any more pleasant... 

Bilbo was about to give up until his fingers touched something unusually big and solid. Quickly fishing for it, Bilbo grabbed it and pulled, being met with the thrice-damned crown covered in chicken innards and vegetable peels. His own arm just as disgusting.

Holding down the urge to gag, Bilbo covered his nose and shouted for Thorin to come.

“Did you find it?!” Thorin shouted as he came barreling to the kitchen, only to stop short when he finally caught sight of Bilbo and his disgusting state. “Oh.”

Bilbo levelled him with a glare, his clean hand still pinching his nose. “' _ Oh _ ' indeed. You’re lucky I love you,” he added, his voice coming annoyingly nasally.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” Thorin offered before quickly picking the crown from Bilbo’s hands and getting a cloth to help clean his hand. To make matters worse his betrothed didn’t even flinch at the gore and filth that covered Bilbo and the crown. Bilbo should have made him search into the waste himself…

With a last huff, he got up and cleaned his arm as best as he could before heading for the sink to scrub his arm raw, maybe that way he would stop feeling the slimy nasties of the waste…

“Next time maybe don’t go and throw your crown on the trash, yes?” Bilbo said to Thorin, as he dried his hands off. The dwarf was now trying to wash the lavish crown with some soap in the sink, looking properly chastised. The sight being amusing enough to dissipate Bilbo’s annoyance at the whole ordeal.

With a last amused huff and shake of the head Bilbo turned, ready to go and try to pick the rooms a little bit as Thorin finished getting ready, only to ram his hip straight on the table of the living room.

Bilbo shouted in pain, a million curses cursing on his mind, but luckily none leaving his mouth.

“Bilbo?! What happened? Are you alright?” Thorin shouted from the kitchen, but Bilbo didn’t answer, too busy looking at the offending table that had his hip throbbing in pain. 

He recognized the wood… It was the same his smial had been made off… It was-

And suddenly Bilbo knew. Right as Dwalin had told him, he knew the perfect design as if Yavanna herself had enlightened him. Suddenly, all his worries flew out of the window as the perfect — oh so perfect — design appeared on his mind.

“Bilbo? Are you okay?” Thorin hurriedly came into the living room, startling him out of his revelation. 

Bilbo turned to look at him, excitement and euphoria brimming inside him, making his whole face split into a massive smile. Thorin was looking at him with concern that only aggravated as he took in Bilbo’s, most likely, mad-looking state.

“Yes!” Bilbo replied. “I- I’m better than ever!” Bilbo stuttered with a startled laugh, practically vibrating in place from elation.

“Are-” Thorin hesitated for a moment, frowning in concern, placing both hands on Bilbo’s shoulders. “Are you sure? You’re shaking,”

“Of happiness!” Bilbo insisted, already itching to get the idea on paper, eager to run to Dwalin and show him so they could finally get it done. Bilbo shrugged off Thorin’s hold and took his hands onto his smaller ones, tugging at them as he pulled Thorin towards his room. “Don’t worry about me, my dear. I’m perfectly fine! In any case, you have to leave, I doubt Bard will be waiting forever.”

Thorin looked startled at Bilbo’s sudden change and he couldn’t blame him. Had he not been so overwhelmed by the intense thrill, Bilbo would have found his own behaviour rather foolish, but as it was now, he hardly cared. “I can cancel it, tell him to call Thranduil or someone else. I- I could send Balin!” Thorin hurriedly said. He sighed, his warm blue eyes fixed on Bilbo. “I don’t want to leave you as you’re right now. I can stay, if you need me,” Thorin offered. 

Bilbo felt his heart melt a little at his words, and while he appreciated the offer that would only delay his plans so with a quick kiss on the cheek — that technically wasn’t actually allowed just yet — he pressed his hand on Thorin’s cheek and smiled at him. “I’ll be okay, I promise. I’m alright, I just remembered something and I’m in a good mood,” Bilbo explained, trying to rein over his excitement to reassure Thorin that no, he wasn’t suddenly going mad.

“Something?” Thorin asked, confused, but looking more relaxed and less like Bilbo was about to keel over.

“It’s a surprise,” Bilbo replied softly, swallowing the urge to kiss Thorin once more, and this time not on the cheek. 

“Oh,” Thorin said with a blink of surprise and smiled when an understanding look took over his face. “ _ Oh _ ...”

“Yes, ‘oh…’” Bilbo said a nod, as he bit his lip, a grin curling on his mouth. 

“I’ll-” Thorin began, licking at his lips as a startled laugh left his mouth. “I’ll go, then. Give you some time. I won’t be back until dinner!” He hastily added, already hurrying towards the door.

“Thorin, the crown!” Bilbo shouted after him, after having noticed his betrothed leaving without it.

“Right. The crown, of course.” Thorin went back into the kitchen, looking slightly sheepish at having forgotten it and with a last smile at Bilbo he finally left.

Bilbo let out an exhale, his shoulders dropping while his mind worked relentlessly. With a nod to himself, he quickly left as well, running towards his own rooms. He would have preferred to have it been a complete surprise to Thorin, but what was done was done, and even now — calmer as he was — Bilbo couldn’t think of anything else that would have made Thorin stop worrying enough to make him leave. The way he had reacted though, made it more than alright with Bilbo and now that he finally had what he had been struggling with for months on end, he was eager to see it finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Lukhudel_ \- light of all lights


	3. Good things come to those who wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part! 🥳🎉❤️ 
> 
> Bilbo finally has the design, but the most difficult part of the gift still remains...
> 
> I hope enjoyed this little story as much as I enjoyed writing it for you! 🥰😘 Merry Christmas, darling! ❤️

“I have it!” Bilbo shouted, feeling a sense of deja vu as Dwalin, not for the first time, startled and cursed at his sudden appearance.

Dwalin let out a tired sigh before turning to look at Bilbo with an annoyed glare. “What is it now?” 

Bilbo ignored him. “The tattoo, I finally finished the design!” Bilbo shouted, waving the paper that contained the finished drawing.

Dwalin visibly brightened after that, before squinting at Bilbo and giving him one of his lecherous smirks, the ones that did nothing more than bring embarrassment and mortification to Bilbo. It was his turn to glare at the dwarf, as he watched him warily, waiting for the next word that would leave his mouth. 

“Ye finally relented in getting Thorin’s face on yer ass?” 

Bilbo blanched at his words, distaste stark on his face, almost really to claw at his face like a rabid warg. 

“I don’t know why we’re friends, you’re horrible and I’m going to tattle to Balin, Thorin and Dís, see if you keep being this awful,” Bilbo instead said, crossing his arms and he pouted pettily, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Not even a thousand years would get him used to Dwalin’s crassness.

Quickly enough Dwalin backed off, raising his hands in the air and taking a couple of steps back. “Alright, alright,” he said placatingly. Bilbo could understand that reaction, after all, who would want to piss off Balin, Thorin and Dís all at the same time, no one, that was. Not even Mahal, Bilbo was sure of it.

Bilbo waved the piece of paper pointedly once more, attracting Dwalin’s attention towards it.

“Have you really finished it?” Dwalin asked, smiling a little as he did so.

“Yes,” Bilbo answered, his own grin stretching over his mouth. He offered the folded piece of paper towards Dwalin and the dwarf quickly took it, opening it and peering at the drawing.

Bilbo tried not to fidget while he waited. He was quite confident in his design but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous. He had no idea how Dwalin would react, and while he was hoping it would in a rather positive way it wasn’t a certain thing. If he actually ended up rejecting his design Bilbo had no idea what he would do next since, quite honestly, it felt as if he had poured his entire brain and heart into the damned thing.

When Dwalin took too long to answer Bilbo spoke up, unwilling to wait any more time in silence. They were back in the weapons room where Dwalin seemed to live if one judged by how much time he spent there in his free time. “Well?” Bilbo urged.

Dwalin raised his head and levelled Bilbo with a serious and a rather grave look, and for a moment Bilbo feared the worst, already feeling disappointment curl on his heart. That was until Dwalin’s face broke into a gigantic smile and slapped Bilbo on the arm strong enough to almost make him go crashing to the ground. “It’s perfect!” he shouted and Bilbo felt himself relax as he sighed in relief, his eyes closing from the force of it.

“Now we can finally set to business. Let’s go!” Dwalin said, pulling at Bilbo’s arm and dragging him across the mountain to an unknown destination.

“Go? Where?” Bilbo asked, confused and slightly alarmed.

“To get yer baby skin inked, of course,” Dwalin replied. 

Bilbo blanched at that, panic surging into him. “Wait, wait! Right now?” he asked, freeing himself from Dwalin’s grasp and taking a few steps away from the dwarf, feeling slightly paranoid at the possibility of the dwarf bodily carrying him all the way to wherever the tattoo artist was.

“Of course! When else? Ye have waited long enough, have ye not?” 

Bilbo opened and closed his mouth trying to find a good reason not to, but Dwalin was right. He had been waiting for so long and now that he finally had the design there was nothing stopping him from actually getting the tattoo. The thing was that despite all the time Bilbo had spent thinking about the design and agonizing about the tattoo, not for a moment it had crossed his mind what he would do when the time to finally get his skin inked arrived.

Or how he would deal with the pain. He had seen getting a couple of tattoos done in his stay in the mountain and he had seen how long they took to do, how much blood that took and how much pain it seemed to cause. 

Dwalin himself had gotten a few more done on his head and Bilbo hadn’t missed the ways his eyes had watered through the process.

Bilbo wasn’t sure if he was ready for that yet. 

Yes, he had learnt to be tougher than before but this was completely uncharted territory, the whole process too foreign to Bilbo.

“I don’t know if I’m ready yet,” Bilbo shakily admitted. “You see, when I came here it didn’t cross my mind that we would be doing it today,” he explained, swallowing thickly as his knees began to quake. “P- perhaps we could wait another day or two...” he weakly offered.

Dwalin directed an incredulous look at him as Bilbo struggled to gather his wits, taking deep breaths. With a last nod to himself, that left Bilbo wondering what was going on that round head of his, he approached Bilbo carefully. His demeanour more gentle than Bilbo was used to see, but something he was entirely too grateful for, as he might have ended up having a crisis if Dwalin began shouting at him, on top of everything.

“Alright, listen, Bilbo,” he softly began and Bilbo did as instructed, fixing his attention on his friend. “The more you delay this the more afraid yer gonna get and I’m not allowing ye to chicken out of this, you put too much effort into it to now give up. Besides, today is the only day Thorin’s going to be away long enough to get it done.” Dwalin put his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders grounding him and mitigating his nervous shaking. He knocked their foreheads none too gently, nothing like the way he and Balin barreled at each other, but enough to take Bilbo out of his stupor. “Besides,” he continued, offering Bilbo half a smirk, his understanding eyes softening the fierce look, “I’m not leaving ye. I’m going to be by your side the whole time.” 

Bilbo nodded, taking a few deep breaths and releasing them, trying to reign his hammering heart.

“Okay.” Bilbo swallowed and shook his head as if to shake his hesitancy and nervousness. “Okay,” he repeated and nodded at Dwalin once, a shaky smile on his face. “Let’s do it.”

“Well said! There’s the brave burglar I befriended, none of that quaky lad that hesitates too much.”

Bilbo nodded one last time, this time to himself as he tried to prepare himself for what was to come. 

It wouldn’t be that hard, would it? Otherwise, why would anyone get tattoos?

Yes, Bilbo concluded, there was no way it hurt that much.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Once again Bilbo had to remind himself to stop tempting fate. Not for the first time, he cursed himself for having opened his giant mouth, even if it had only been on his head. 

He had clearly cursed himself again, otherwise, he couldn’t see why this was happening. 

Why, when he had been assured, not only by Dwalin by also by the nice and cheery dwarrowdam — that was currently the only Master tattoo artist in the mountain that did Ones tattoos — that the place he had chosen wouldn’t hurt too much, he was now left biting his lips raw and gripping onto Dwalin’s hand hard enough to break it as the prickle of the needle burnt into his skin.

The process of actually getting started had been much easier and quicker than Bilbo would have liked but, alas, the dwarrowdam — whose name was Gravona — had found the design more than perfect. Complimenting Bilbo in such a well made design and intricate significance, all wrapped up in a rather telling way that would be more than obvious, for anyone who saw, who his tattoo was about.

“I hate you!” Bilbo screamed at Dwalin as the needle pricked him rather painfully. 

Bilbo breathed from between his clenched teeth, sounding more like a hiss than anything else, before swallowing down a whimper as the needle pierced his skin more insistently.

“I don’t know how I let you convince me to do this!” Bilbo wailed at Dwalin as Gravona smiled at him in sympathy from where he was bent over his chest. She took a moment to carefully drip the needle in the golden ink. Bilbo just hoped this meant she was about to finish and was done with the black one. He couldn’t be sure, though, as he had refused to look anywhere where she or the tattoo was.

“Cause ye love Thorin, maybe? Also, I’ll have ye know my ideas are the best. Wasn’t it for it ye would be still fretting about gifts and whatnots. Yer just a little wimpy...” Dwalin mumbled the last part as he grimaced, trying to counteract Bilbo’s accusations but he wasn’t fooled, as from where he was lying, the fool of a dwarf was more than a little sweaty trying to pry his white hand from Bilbo’s bruising grip. 

Bilbo gripped it tighter, if possible. If the dwarf had any thoughts about getting free he could start discarding them because Bilbo wasn’t about to let go any time soon. 

Misery loves company, as they say, and Dwalin deserved to suffer just as much as Bilbo for planning the damned idea on his head in the first place.

And so the longest and more torturous moments of Bilbo’s life began…

It could very well might have passed a hundred years for all Bilbo knew. The agonizingly long time it took for the tattoo to be done made him feel as if he had spent a lifetime getting it inked on his poor abused skin, each prick of the needle more painful than the last. The shading had almost done Bilbo in, making him feel as if his skin was been peeled off. All too unpleasant to even think about and enough to make him feel sure that he wasn’t going to repeat this experience ever again.

Even now, finished and cleaned up as he was, his entire chest still throbbed, the skin raw and painful, even a slight breeze making it sting. It was a rather unsightly sight, with how inflamed and red the skin was but Gravona had assured him it would ease up within a couple of hours.

Bilbo looked into the little mirror the dwarrowdam had offered him and took into the design he had so lovingly made now inked into his skin. 

He took a shuddering breath, eyes sweeping across every slope and edge, every golden accent and every grey shade that now lay on his skin, for the whole mountain, to see. For Thorin to see…

Bilbo looked at the two leaves of oak — one for Thorin and one for him — the stems intertwined into each other, veins drawn in golden and the shaded curves of the leaves in grey with the outline made in intense black. A phrase etched beside the leaves in a darker shade of golden.  _ ‘In this life and the next ones’ _ .

Bilbo looked at the tattoo, really looked at it, and felt his eyes swell with tears.

This was it…

This was what he had been wanting to give to Thorin all along, something that would last a lifetime, something that, just by looking at it one would instantly know how deep Bilbo’s love ran.

All the pain, the cursing and the stress from before had led to this and Bilbo couldn’t help but remember all of it with a strange sort of fondness, because, all of that? Had led to this and Bilbo believed it was more than a worthy exchange…

Now all that was left was waiting. 

He couldn’t very well just go and show Thorin the ugly sight that was his half mangled chest, no, that wouldn’t do. So Bilbo would wait. It wasn’t ideal as it would take around two weeks to be fully healed, and he was more than eager to finally show Thorin his last gift of their courtship — maybe so they could finally be able to kiss again — but he had to be patient. Besides, he had already waited several months for this very moment, a couple of weeks should be nothing.

Something said to Bilbo that it certainly wouldn’t be the case, and with his running bad luck, he ought to make sure to listen to such words that surely came from beyond...

  
  


* * *

  
  


Bilbo paced around the room, body tense and heart hammering on his chest strongly enough to burst out of it at any moment. 

Today was finally the day…

Bilbo could hardly believe the two weeks had finally passed. Every second had been excruciatingly slow and yet, now that the day was finally here, Bilbo felt wholly unprepared.

So busy he had been trying to keep Thorin from suspecting anything he had completely forgotten to plan about how he was going to reveal the whole thing to his betrothed. He couldn’t very well just undress and let the thing talk for itself now, could he?

No, that would be in poor taste and with how much it had cost Bilbo to reach this point he would never forgive himself if the gift-giving didn’t measure up.

So far he had been lucky, because while the weeks have passed torturously slow Thorin had been nothing but patient, unlike Bilbo — and on a smaller scale, Dwalin, who was once again giving Bilbo knowing looks. 

His beloved dwarf had arrived from that meeting with Bard, giddy and smiley as if he had drunk a whole barrel of ale, looking at Bilbo expectantly but not pressing and for that Bilbo had been more than thankful. Yavanna knows that, had Thorin asked about it, Bilbo would have spewed the truth without any repairs. 

But in the end, Thorin didn’t and when he realized that he wasn’t getting his gift that day he went back to his supportive and ever-patient self, even if he was only like that when it came to Bilbo…

For his part, Dwalin was a blessing and a curse, as his friend had been there with Bilbo every moment. The first week had been a blessing, Bilbo would say as he had been the one to help Bilbo take care of the tattoo and try to offer any semblance of patience and understanding. Lending an ear to Bilbo whenever he needed an outlet from when the need to just run to Thorin and tell him everything got too strong. 

The second week, not so much…

Because as it seemed, even Dwalin had his limit and Bilbo should have truly seen this coming. The second week was filled with knowing smirks and teasing words, riling him up enough that Bilbo had had to swallow the urge to smack Dwalin silly with a pan.

As it was, Dwalin had also gotten quite fed up with waiting and his way of coping was annoying the ever-loving daylights out of Bilbo. After all, misery loves company…

So when the day finally arrived, Bilbo was able to breathe again, relieved at not having to deal with Dwalin’s nonsense. He truly loved his friend and he had been more than helpful during such a difficult time for Bilbo. But after everything some distance would do them some good, Bilbo was certain…

After waking up and realizing today was  _ the _ day he had spent the entire day in a daze, waiting until dinner time to tell Thorin, after having checked almost compulsively at the tattoo, wanting to ensure it was fully healed. Even going so far to sneak out to see Gravona, to be completely sure. She quickly reassured Bilbo, telling him it had healed fantastically and wished him good luck.

Bilbo had gone back to his rooms, thankful for having finished all his duties a day prior, and began cooking. It was the only thing that could tether him and ground him enough to not self-combust before Thorin arrived. He cooked and cooked until he finally felt calm, each dish making Bilbo forget all his worries, the only thing in mind the love he was putting on his food.

Which brought him right at the start. Him pacing around the room close to a breakdown, as he waited for Thorin to arrive any moment now. 

Once he had finished making the meals — with enough dishes to be considered a banquet — Bilbo was left to stew in his thoughts and anxiety once more, this time with nothing to help and no plan in sight about how to progress after having stuffed his dwarf full with food.

Could he be able to do it? To tell and make Thorin understand how much he meant to Bilbo? To make him comprehend the amount of happiness he brought Bilbo every day? Bilbo didn’t know, and quite honestly he doubted it… He might be able to have his way with words but that was when it didn’t involve his feelings, in those times Bilbo might have as well been mute for how little he was able to say. He would still try, if anything for Thorin, he would do it.

So lost was Bilbo on his thoughts he didn’t notice Thorin entering until he spoke up. “Bilbo?  _ Khajimel?  _ Are you here?” he said, startling Bilbo so badly he bumped his shin against the coffee table of the living room. He hissed, bending over to cradle his poor leg and that was how Thorin found him, face scrunched in pain and his heart about to leap out of his mouth. “There you- What happened?” Thorin said, hastily throwing his outer robe on the sofa as he hurried to Bilbo’s side.

“I’m quite alright, my dear. Just bumped my shin on the table when I went to greet you,” Bilbo easily lied, sighing in relief when he didn’t choke on his own tongue. He hoped he had sounded normal, he thought he had but one never knew…

“Do you need some ice? It looks a little red,” Thorin offered, bending over to inspect Bilbo’s leg.

“No, no, it’s fine! It hurt just in that moment, I’m okay now!” Bilbo said almost desperately, lifting his hands and waving them around as if to dismiss Thorin’s worry. He put on a smile and prayed that his eyes didn’t show any of the desperation or nervousness he felt.

The last thing he needed was Thorin leaving again in search of ice or something as ridiculous, or worse, realizing something was wrong and Bilbo having to explain everything before they had anything to eat. Thorin was awfully good at reading him and it was something Bilbo truly loved about him but now more than ever it was a complete inconvenience.

“Are you sure?” asked Thorin, frowning and looking too dubious for Bilbo’s taste.

“Yes, yes! See?” Bilbo said, jumping a little where he was standing. “I’m perfectly okay. We should eat though, I wouldn’t want the food to go cold!” Bilbo added quickly, pulling at Thorin’s hand.

“You already made food?” Thorin asked, surprised and if Bilbo was hearing right, a little hurt. 

Bilbo scrunched his face as he internally cursed himself, swallowing the urge to slam his forehead against the wall. Of course, Thorin would be hurt! Why hadn’t Bilbo taken that into consideration? They had been cooking together since the time Thorin had made food for him for the first time, almost a year ago… How could have Bilbo been so stupid? Thorin would see it as a slight of some sort and Bilbo, like the idiot he was, hadn’t thought about it.

“I thought I would surprise you!” Bilbo offered placatingly, turning to look at Thorin’s concerned eyes, the way his mouth was pinched in discontent and hurt. Bilbo wanted to punch himself for being the one to put that look on his face.

“A surprise?” Thorin asked, looking confused and still frowning, but at least he looked a little calmer.

“Yes! You have been working so hard lately I thought I would make something for you, besides,” Bilbo added hesitantly, licking his lips. “I have something else for you after dinner,” he finally admitted, struggling to hold Thorin’s gaze and not drop it to the ground as nerves too hold, and not willing to give too much away.

Thorin must have still seen something though, for as the next moment a giant grin broke on his face, eyes searching, shining bright and hopeful. And for a moment, for a short second, Bilbo almost spewed everything right then and there. Only how hard he was biting on his lower lip stopped him from it.

Bilbo didn’t confirm anything, but as always Thorin could read him like an open book so, with one last look at his face, Thorin’s grin stretched even further, eyes crinkling at the edges. “I see..” He said, his grin softening at the edges, becoming more intimate and kinder. “I’ll wait then. As much as you need me to,” he added, and gently he pressed their forehead together, their noses rubbing momentarily. 

Bilbo felt his eyes sting, emotions high as they already were*, and swallowed thickly. He leaned into the touch, giving Thorin a wobbly smile, eyes misty. “Thank you,” Bilbo answered, wetly, utterly moved by Thorin’s everpresent devotion.

Thorin pulled away and smiled understandingly at him, taking Bilbo’s hand, leading him to the dining room where all the food was laid. 

Quickly they ate, Thorin making a point to compliment Bilbo’s food every time he tried something new. Bilbo brimmed under the praise and swallowed his own food without even tasting everything, all feeling like charcoal in his mouth. Maybe he should have spoken with Thorin before dinner, used it as a sort of afterwards celebration. Now it was too late and Bilbo mourned the loss of good food.

They talked about their day and exchanged stories, laughter and easy chatter filling the room, all the while, the upcoming conversation hunting Bilbo at the back of his mind. And right when he thought he had finally managed to relax enough, the food and dessert were finished, all conversation having halted a couple of minutes ago. 

Thorin looked expectantly at him, an easy and calm smile on his face, and Bilbo knew it was time.

So, taking a deep breath he smiled nervously at Thorin and offered his hand one more time, taking Thorin’s rougher one in his own and trying to ground himself with the touch of his rougher skin. 

He led his betrothed to the living room once again, his bedroom still being vetoed until the courtship was finished, and made him sit on the sofa, Bilbo doing the same by his side, facing him straight on.

Taking a shuddering breath he laid Thorin’s hand on his lap, still holding it, the only thing giving Bilbo the strength needed to keep talking.

Opening his mouth a few times, no words coming out, Bilbo swallowed breathing in one last time before letting the air go in a deep exhale. “I love you,” he began with, the only thing that never seemed to be stuck on his throat.

Thorin smiled at him, rubbing his thumb over the back of Bilbo’s hand comfortingly. “And I do too, and I promise you that whatever is that you give me now I’ll cherish it like nothing else,” Thorin said, voice soft and tender, as he met Bilbo’s eyes.

Bilbo laughed wetly at that, and finding the little courage he had, he kept going. “I thought of so many things to give you as my last courting gift but none came close to expressing how much you mean to me, how much you have changed my life for the better, so it took me a long time to give you something worthy of the love I have for you. Because this is a symbol of my love, not your value as a person, make no mistake, Thorin,” Bilbo said seriously, every word coming out more clear and steady than the last. “I know you would have even received a patch of grass, mud and all, with no complaint, thinking it was just a simple gift to show your value as a King and some other nonsense. That’s what it says on the rules, at least but I never took it that way. To me, this is the gift in which I show you how serious I am when I tell you that I love you, and I also need you and the rest of our people to understand that, that’s why I did what I did.”

“What did you do?” Thorin asked, his easy smile having shifted into shock and now into concern, searching into Bilbo’s face for any clue.

Bilbo smiled reassuringly at him, taking his time to unbutton his waistcoat and his shirt as he said. “It felt like the most natural thing to do, even if it hurt more than I could’ve imagined,” he added, laughing a little.

Thorin hungrily followed his movements but made no move to hurry Bilbo, the hand that was still placed on Bilbo’s lap tightened in a fist.

When Bilbo finally opened his shirt, revealing his chest and his inked skin, Thorin took a shuddering breath, eyes widened and his whole body trembling. He brought a hand and covered his mouth, a keeling sound coming from behind it as his eyes rapidly watered, his other hand raised in the air as if wanting to reach and touch Bilbo’s tattoo but too afraid to do it. 

Bilbo himself sniffed, feeling fat tears gathering in his eyes once again. “You’re my One too, Thorin.” 

Thorin let out a wounded sound and closed his eyes, tears spilling from his eyes. Bilbo crowded onto him and pulled him into a hug, Thorin quickly holding onto him, hiding his face in Bilbo’s neck as he cried. Bilbo did the same and held onto dear life, crying in happiness, the enormity of his feelings too much to bear.

After a long moment both calmed down and Thorin pulled away, eyes fixed on Bilbo’s chest. “...Can I touch it?” he asked hesitantly, his hand reaching towards it once again.

Bilbo quickly nodded and sighed as Thorin’s fingertips brushed against the tattoo. He traced every curve, every edge and every word that was marked forever in Bilbo’s skin, all the while Bilbo’s racing heart, thumping right under his touch.

“I thought you hated tattoos,” Thorin commented, gaze still on Bilbo’s skin, taking in every detail. 

“Not this one,” Bilbo replied, taking Thorin’s hand and putting it flat on top of the tattoo, his big hand covering almost the entirety of the design. “Or the ones you have, for that matter,” he added, brushing his own finger against the teasing lines that peeked from under the collar of his inner robe.

“Oh,  _ âzyungel- _ ” Thorin exclaimed with a exhale, eyes closing as he leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, pecking Bilbo on the lips briefly, so briefly Bilbo had barely any time to enjoy it — oh, Yavana, it’s been  _ so _ long. “Do you have any idea what this means? How  _ much _ it means?” Thorin continued, eyebrows pulled down as he looked at Bilbo with a gaze so full of love and awe that it almost made Bilbo swoon.

“I do,” Bilbo replied. “That’s why I did it.”

Thorin let out a chuckle. “You’re unbelievable. You’ll be the first one to do this,” he added, “no one has ever gotten a One’s tattoo before the wedding. What I was planning to do is already unheard, but what you did has never happened before.”

“I know, but I don’t mind,” Bilbo replied lightly, eyes sparkling. “This just means that my love is stronger than any other.”

"I love you," Thorin said with a wet laugh as he pulled Bilbo into another kiss, this one longer, pulling a hum of happiness out of Bilbo for his efforts. “How did you get the idea?” he asked after a while.

Bilbo, still a little dazed from the kiss, blinked a little before answering. “Oh, well, you can thank Dwalin for that, and yourself from convincing me to do it. Your sod of a friend has been trying to convince me to get a normal tattoo in your honour for months. It wasn’t until after I got injured in the forge that I finally considered his idea, then you talked to me about your future tattoo,” Bilbo said as he put his hand on top of Thorin’s heart, “and I know I had to do the same for you. I craved it, I needed to have something that I could look at every day to reassure me that yes, you’re the one for me and I’m the one for you.”

“In that case I might have to give a big gift to Dwalin, as a thank you,” Thorin said, eyes wandering once again towards the tattoo. Bilbo had an inkling that it would be a recurrent thing for a long while.

“Don’t!” Bilbo said with a huff. “He was awful about it. I’ll thank him myself. Perhaps I’ll help him to court someone of his own. I know for a fact, he has his eye on a particular someone,” Bilbo added, eyes crinkling as he thought all the times he had seen Dwalin stare at them longingly. Well, as longingly as someone like Dwalin could stare.

“Do you think you’ll be able to handle planning a wedding on top of that?” Thorin asked, smiling at Bilbo, eyebrows up as he looked at Biblo intendedly.

“Oh, I think I’ll manage...” Bilbo replied, with a mischievous smile, pulling Thorin into another quick kiss, feeling the dwarf’s hand on top of his heart, right where all the love Bilbo had for him resided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Khajimel_ \- gift of all gifts  
>  _Âzyungel_ \- love of loves


End file.
